


One Of Hilary Grimley’s Adventures

by Marie_Michon



Category: DUMAS Alexandre - Works, Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: AU - The Fabulous Adventures in Immortality of the Vampire Aramis and the Man Who Named the Mountain, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae & Fairies, Familiars, Leprechauns, Missing Scene, Other, Post-Canon, alternate universe - Fairy, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Michon/pseuds/Marie_Michon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <b>One Of Hilary Grimley’s Adventures as the <s>Grigori</s> Butler of the Man Who Named the Mountain</b>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><br/><br/>Taken from the 'book of notes' of Mr. Grimley for the Annual Grigori Assembly <p> <em>...He is still invited, nobody got the memo that he was released and works as a butler now…</em><br/><br/><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of Hilary Grimley’s Adventures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Donna_Immaculata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/gifts), [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Frankenstein](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500722) by [Donna_Immaculata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata), [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF). 



> This is the missing scene to [Frankenstein](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6500722/chapters/14880955) by Donna_Immaculata & ElDiablito_SF.
> 
> This is a humble tribute work, inspired by their epic "The Fabulous Adventures in Immortality of the Vampire Aramis and the Man Who Named the Mountain" and written as a gift to them for the first anniversary of their saga. Happy jubilee!
> 
> Again, this is written without their authorisation!
> 
> All character-traits you don't recongise from Dumas are Donna_Immaculata's & ElDiablito_SF's!  
>   
>   
>  **WARNING: This work is not to be taken seriously and is strictly for fun. All alliteration pun intended. Do not read, if you haven't read the abovementioned work, because this won't make any sense on its own!**  
> ...or if don't want to read crappy fairy fantasy...  
>   
>  **This is for you, D & El, and for all the joy you give us with "The Fabulous Adventures in Immortality of the Vampire Aramis and the Man Who Named the Mountain"!**

**Paris, 1844**

I had come to like him, actually, who’d have thought!

Thinking about that first impression I had gotten of him, I couldn’t suppress a smile, a measured and crooked little smile which I hid behind the cards I held fanned out in my hand. 

I had taken to smile quite a lot in this new incarnation of me, lately, and it got harder and harder to hide behind my polished English but still as grim as ever façade. A façade I had carefully honed for years working under my Kyrios as his Grigori.

But also he had gotten… one might say milder, and more benevolent in this life as a God than he had ever been before… one could say domesticated, actually. He hadn’t even thrashed me for ages although I was at least as sassy as ever. And that although Kyrios himself had ascended from war mongering demi-god to the very God of Discord and his company, also, couldn’t have been more ferocious and lethal these days…

There was his resurrected blood-thirsty demon from hell, the resurfaced cold-blooded water nymph, a predatory fairy queen from the netherworld and now, the mischief brewing leprechaun the fairy had gifted to her undead diabolic lover.

His name was Bartleby. At first I thought him a spy, reporting back to the Dame Blanche everything that was likable to give her an advantage over Kyrios and his consort, and I rarely left my eyes off him. But he never gave me even the slightest cause to complain. On the contrary, not only did he provide immaculate and perfectly mended and waxed shoes every day, he kept all of the couple’s extravagant, expensive, and way too often spoilt and ruined garderobe in exemplary condition.

And speaking of expenses, you do not want to know what hardships I had to take upon me to provide for Kyros’ luxuries before, the Augean sheets alone…  
But the leprechaun did not only fund the unholy abomination’s dissipations, he made all of us well pecunious. 

I cannot get over that the death dancing dame simply _gave_ him to master Flitterbat… He must be one hell of a lover. On the other hand, a hundred years ago, the Bourbon nymph had already given him gifts that would have financed smaller wars, and the Rohan nymph was just as lavish before her. He really seemed to be the infernal incubus everybody desired if he was worth such offerings. And Kyrios is the worst of them all, but let’s not go there. He is beyond common sense when it comes to his naughty little nightwing…

But back to Bartleby. At first, the short man with his ageless face had reminded me of master Aramis’ former servant, Bazin, with his small spectacles and how he bowed to the masters, so full of subservience… I was truly afraid that I would have to deal with another dim-witted lick-spittle like that hollow-head, who all but drooled after his master… secretly keeping the pillowcases for himself that were beyond repair and cleansing to do - the gods know what - with. 

But this servant was different. He was clever, supportive and useful. _Valuable_ even, like master Flittermouse had said after the assault in Sounion in 1823. Bartleby had saved my life, all our lives, then, and that’s when I, for the first time of my existence as Kyrios’ guardian, began to really trust another being, aside from my godling, of course.

Bartleby was resourceful and witty and I actually liked to spend even my free time - which I suddenly had, as we could afford to source-out quite some of our strenuous chores, thanks to him, with him. Like tonight. 

We were playing cards when he suddenly looked up from his hand and eyed me suspiciously. 

“How long have you been in this body, Grimley?” 

I had to think for a minute. 

“In 1815 I became immortal, I was 37, then… I think I always will be from now on.” 

“For 66 years, then” the leprechaun mused and played his card. 

It was hard for me to concentrate on the game now, as I tried to fathom what he planned to do with this information. He was always up to something, and as I experienced right now, the extent of my trust was not as deep as I would have wished it to be. 

“Why?” I asked leery, pondering if the beastly number 66 should make me wary. 

I shook that thought off, it wasn’t as if I was a Christian like our master ex-bishop now, or superstitious, all of a sudden. And my real age didn’t bother me, it never had. I, maybe, wouldn’t even have noticed what it would mean, that my body didn’t age in this reincarnation, hadn’t our vain master vampyre pointed out at my reunion with the freshly resurrected Kyrios in Litochoro that I was _hot_. Even Kyrios had found me _attractive_ , he had said. I still almost blushed at that recollection. 

_SHUT IT, SWINE!_ My divine master had also ordered as I had approached that topic, so I had never thought about it, again. But I think master Flittermouse likes me better in this vessel than before. He is always much politer to beautiful people, and he hadn’t even bitten me over any insolence I had allowed myself over drafting their passports over the years. I believe he would have eaten my old vessel, Grimaud, years ago. 

“I was just wondering whether you were a good… _dancer_.” The leprechaun said and won another trick. 

I lifted my eyebrows at him. 

“I am asking for a friend…” the leprechaun supplemented hastily, and it sounded as if he wanted to dispel any insinuations my look might have indicated. 

“A _friend_ , Bartleby?” I asked and highly doubted that he had any friends, besides me, if I thought about it, thoroughly. I think I would consider him something like a friend by now… 

He looked at me over the rim of his spectacles with a mixture of annoyance and concern and played another card without looking at the table. 

“Grimley, don’t be so slow, I am asking for you!” 

He indicated towards the stack of cards on the table with a jerk of his head. 

I dropped the next card from my hand to the stack without even looking at it.  
He took the cards, sighed, and shook his head in exasperation at my uninspired play. 

“I don’t understand.” I confessed and dropped the rest of my cards. 

I couldn’t concentrate on two things simultaneously, when I got the feeling that I missed something of personal importance in one of them. 

“Too late, she is here.” 

He said and took the rest of the cards from the table to neatly add to his stack and got up in the direction to the door. Nobody had rang, but I saw the grey cat of one of our neighbours pressing its head against our window so it could be no other than the lynx-eyed fairy. Bartleby obviously still felt her, like all her familiars did. 

She often came to get the leprechaun to help her on some errands, especially those involving the hunters, but his words were still puzzling me, so I didn’t notice that this time, he came back into our servants’ chambers with the Lady In White in his wake. 

I sprang up from my chair and gave her a devout bow from where I stood wondering why a lady should enter our quarters. 

Her hair was arranged in perfectly shaped dark curls which bounced into her décolleté that was displayed scandalously by her high-waisted dress, as she removed her hat and threw it together with her cape towards her former familiar, who caught her clothing with practiced ease. 

Her dress, like her skin, emitted the faint gleam that usually surrounded her and I had to swallow and will myself to look away. I had never been so close to the fairy without the attendance of our masters and the fiery gleam in her eyes unsettled me. I felt out of place, suddenly so exposed to her unworldly beauty in rooms that were as beneath her as was my presence like this, a butler. 

“How can I be of service, Milady?” I asked and kept my eyes demurely on the floor, my perfect English politeness barely hiding my annoyance at her intrusion. 

There was a mocking tone in her laughter as she stepped closer and lifted my chin with the back of her curved index finger of her still gloved right hand to have me look back up into her bedazzling face. 

“In every way you can.” She said in her melodious voice that had brought down better men than me, and her laughter was full of mischief like the evil queen she was. 

“Milady, please…” I tried to discern whether she was drunk or otherwise indisposed, and stepped back, but she grasped my hand and arranged herself before me in a ballroom pose, opening her other arm for me to take up position… like for one of those swift modern dances. Maybe she was just… being a fairy. But what did they say about dancing and fairies… 

I tried to free my hand and took another step back, looking over to her leprechaun for help. 

“Please!” 

_JUST DO IT_ , he mouthed, and hastened to take care of her belongings, in parting he threw me another warning glance _AND BETTER BE GOOD!_

I gulped as I was reminded on fractions of master Aramis’ words. I should have paid better attention, then, but he was fighting with my divine donor solely for the purpose of sexual arousal, like so often, and I was busy swallowing the results of their appalling display of disgustingness. He had narrated something of faithful lutins who tormented men quite ingeniously when those had failed to please her. 

I looked after Bartleby. What had his question been? 

If I was a good _dancer_ … 

Had he gone to prepare my punishment, already? 

I mean, how could _I_ be a good dancer?! 

I didn’t even dare to look at her. For one, it wasn’t proper, and secondly, I remembered Bartleby saying that some of the greatest, most powerful men of Paris had been lured into her thrall. Fairies were dangerous, their beauty just deception, just like Kyrios’ undead incubus with his angelic countenance. 

She still laughed, but her grasp on my hand was strong. Too strong for a human. I looked down at the elegant glove in my hand that housed fingers which looked much too delicate to exert such a vice-like grip, as she began tip-toeing a volte around me. 

“Milady, please, no. I am just a humble servant. It is out of my place to dance, to be even regarded by you!” 

She finished with a svelte pirouette before me and slid close, arranged herself before me, lifted her other hand on my other arm. 

“Please, Milady, my master will kill me for this insolence.” 

“Ha!” she laughed, “you liar, you cannot be killed, angel!” 

“But, he will try, enthusiastically…” damn those fairies and their abilities. 

She laughed it away and started to sway softly back and forth with me, winking at the three cats before the window. _Three_ cats? 

I finally looked at her. In her pearlescent glow, with her creamy skin, her dark hair and her beautiful appearance she looked like a goddess. She surely moved like one as she set us into motion, dancing us in a small circle around the table in the cramped little room. 

Suddenly little fairies swirled like fireflies around the lamp, making it look like a fairy tale chandelier. The chairs drew back from the table against the walls which also seemed to be drawn outwards and a heavy haze poured in through the doors and windows and laid itself out over the floor which had enlarged to a grand ballroom. There was music pulsating in my head and our circles grew wider and faster. 

She dragged me to fairy! 

“My Queen,” I addressed her, as it seemed only fitting, “master Aramis, he is the dancer, _the lover_ , I shouldn’t be here, neither have I any practice...” 

She threw us into another spirited turn and a fire kindled behind her bottomless eyes. 

“Well, mon cher Grimley, my dark chevalier and his paramour chose to occupy themselves with _my lover_ , so you will have to suffice.” 

“Please, my Queen, reprieve me,” I begged, “You have no idea what the cruel creature of the night is capable of. He will tear out my throat and veritably _eat_ me.” 

“Grimley, trust me, the devil’s own panther is just another big kitten. I can handle him. Also, he need never know.” 

With another full-turn she pushed me against the wall where I slid down on one of the discarded chairs. 

The room was spinning and I tried to catch my breath, as tiny fairies descended, swirled around my crotch and tore and bit at my laces. I tried to swat them away like the blood-sucking little parasites they are, but their queen had me already freed and out. 

“Oh!” she marveled at the sight of my cock, “Any bit as much a Satyr as you would expect from a creature out of Greek mythology.” 

With licking her glittery lips, she sunk down before me and bit me herself, so I couldn’t suppress a heavy groan. 

“Who’d have thought that angels and demons taste so much alike,” she purred before she lifted her skirts and slid down on my lap. 

We both moaned as her sheath sunk down on my shaft, her slick tightness throbbing around me in tact with the rhythm of the music. She threw her arms around my neck and embraced me tightly as her lips pressed against mine and she started to move. 

Her cool lips sparkled against me, tickling me and I opened my mouth for a gasp. Her dainty tongue slid into me, teasing me, devouring me, she tasted like mint, honey and winter’s last frost… she bit me and my tongue turned numb.  
Was fairy dust poisonous? 

I closed my eyes as my head resumed spinning faster, or was everything around us spinning faster? I had to hold myself fast, so I clutched the chair beneath me with one hand while I had my other arm around her waist, clinging on for dear life. I felt dizzy to the point of being sick and wondered how Aramis could cope with this, with her, with his famous sickness of the sea… 

The music was getting faster, the chair seemed to spin in opposite direction as the room did, and she rode me as if the waves of an autumn storm were heaving the sea beneath my chair until the waves were crushing over us and we both screamed out our release with the spray in our faces. 

...

I do not recall what happened after that. 

...

When I woke up, I still sat on the chair, but back at our table, my head was lying on the desk and a little puddle of saliva pooled before me on the polished surface. Opposite from me sat Bartleby and brushed a pair of shoes. 

My shoes! I looked down and found myself bare-footed. These leprechauns…  
I felt the usual grimness return and adding to my somber mood. Why, fuck Hypnos, had I fallen asleep at the table? Why did my head feel as if I had drunk with my Kyrios after a victory against the barbarians, like in the old days? And why on Hera’s cunt had I dreamed to have coupled with the Lady In White?! I groaned and held my head. 

Bartleby handed me my shoes back, and I grabbed them with a sourly curved mouth. As I bent down to put them back on, I hit my head at the table top and cursed out loud which finally had my colleague get my point and leave. Why did no one ever make a tea for me? 

I slipped into my shoes and stilled. Something felt wrong about the laces as I tried to bind them; I looked closer and could have sworn that there were tiny bite-marks on them. I shook my head to get rid of this dream induced paranoia and sat back up. The mess of spit on the table came back into my field of vision. I was too groggy to get up so I mopped up the puddle with my sleeve. There was a shimmering residue where I had swiped and I took a closer look at my sleeve. It was fairy dust. 


End file.
